


Alright / Okay

by hanschen



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Multi, Other, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27863185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanschen/pseuds/hanschen
Summary: Colin Robinson befriends another energy vampire and finds himself satisfied in a way he never thought possible. When he realizes this friend is committing one of the most cardinal sins of energy vampirism – behaving violently to get access to someone’s life force – he attempts to step in, only to find their definitions of violence vary. Colin wonders if the world has become numb to assault, or if maybe he’s a better person than he originally thought. Either way, there may not be much he can do to help, but he might as well try.
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless, Laszlo Cravensworth/Nadja
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Talking circle methods

**Author's Note:**

> ***CONTENT WARNING: This chapter deals with aspects of the pandemic and mentions misogyny.***
> 
> I have like 8000 open series to finish on this dumb site, including a fic over in the movie section of this fandom that I somehow make more complicated every single chapter, and here I am starting a new one like the total Aries nightmare I choose to manifest myself as
> 
> So I'm mostly writing this series as a way to answer my own questions and theories about energy vampirism that SOMEONE whose name starts with a "J" and ends in "emaine Clement" does not seem like he plans to answer anytime soon (I'm just kidding, I love that dude). Also to talk through some of my own thoughts about gray areas of consent and possibly some other social issues too. I'm really caught up on the intricacies of vampiric hypnotism and familiars and consent. Which brings me to say that this story will probably be dealing with a lot of non-consensual sex stuff, and also some mention of protests and violence most likely, and also mentions of the pandemic. Every chapter will have its own trigger warnings though, like the one at the top. 
> 
> Also in case you're wondering where I stand when I mention him, I hate Mamet's guts

2020 may be a bust for you, but for Colin Robinson, it was turning out to be a banner year.

Face masks really made everything so easy. All you had to was drop the mask when the cashier asked for your card or when someone stopped you to ask for directions, as if lowering could help you hear them better. Then stand next to someone in line _just shy_ of six feet—close enough that they wonder if maybe you’re not staying far enough away, and they shoot you _that look,_ but not close enough that it really makes sense for them to say anything without seeming paranoid. On your walk home, wear the mask below your nose, just to worry passers-by. If you have to sneeze, even better, take the whole thing off to sneeze into your elbow and soak up those puzzled looks. As soon as you get home, don’t wash your hands, and touch something that belongs to Guillermo right in front of him, probably one of his cups or Tide pens (that probably still smells like whatever disinfectant he had to use in your wake last time). And then go right to your computer to engage in some healthy internet debate about it. For the scared people inside posting from deep inside their homes, mention something about how their air conditioners can pick up the germs. For the anti-maskers, it’s even easier to do—just drop a statistic on their status update.

But Saturday, March 28th, was even more special. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet. He was about to join the inaugural meeting of a feminist-play-reading club. We’re talking about a group of theatre people whose entire schedules and livelihoods had just been postponed indefinitely. Their first play was _Oleanna_ by David Mamet, a playwright who Colin Robinson was very familiar with (a celebrity fellow energy vampire in hiding, he suspected). And in the meeting, he was delighted to find he was the only visible man there. That in and of itself was a drain on the group. This was going to be a bloodbath, and all he had to do was _ask questions._ Life was good.

“Hi everyone!” piped up a smiley woman with a squeaky, measured voice on a pinned screen. “We’re going to get started in just a couple minutes, give everyone a little bit longer to trickle in. I’ll go check the waiting room, in the meantime, if everyone could go ahead and change their names to list their pronouns, if you’d like, that’d be very helpful.”

Colin was tempted to ask what pronouns were and why he should list them, but he found in a previous Zoom meeting with a diversity training group that progressives turned out to love the opportunity to explain what these were, so that wouldn’t work great. So he went with, “I’d love to do that, but I don’t know how.”

Two women both started to explain it to him, but their mics cut each other off. For his next move, waiting only a second to acknowledge in his mind his own precision and expertise, he stated the obvious, “I think you guys cut each other off there. What was that?”

Without him asking for a specific one to talk, they did the exact same thing. Beautiful. This was going even better than expected.

As they explained it to him, and he deliberately ignored them, he took a peek through the rest of the thirty-three participants. One woman with a virtual beach background was going to be easy to drain from, but a quick job; those people always fancied themselves more energetic and patient than they actually were. So was a woman with an undercut and an obviously placed “Well-Behaved Women Seldom Make History” print on the wall behind her. One person didn’t have the camera on, going by only the label “John M. (he/him/his). Colin ignored him and anyone else without their cameras on—those people could be a hit or miss. Either they were firmly rooted in not engaging, or unaware of how to even turn the camera on, and Colin hadn’t yet perfected the art of draining while teaching something to someone who actually wanted to learn (but he figured he had months’ worth of a pandemic to figure it out. No rush).

The pinned voice piped up again. “Okay, everyone, we’re going to get started now, and we’ll let people come in late if they need, so we’ll just get started with some quick intros. My name’s Andrea, I teach theater over at Staten Island Community, and I decided to get a little group going to talk about some of the pressing social issues we’re dealing with now. What better way to do it than tackling some of these modern ‘classics.’” She used air quotes. Colin’s stomach practically growled. He was scanning the strategically placed bookshelf behind her for some clues about what to say first, but then another male voice popped up.

“Andrea, I have a quick question—I’m so sorry, did I pronounce that right? _An­_ drea? Or was it _Ahn_ drea?” said the John M. screen.

“It’s _Ahn_ drea, thank you so much for asking. If it’s about how the feedback session will work, I’m about to talk a little bit about our circle method and how to sort of make a virtual talking piece work.”

“Oh, wonderful! No, no questions then, that’s exactly what it’s about. I heard you were a local expert in facilitating talking circles and I was secretly hoping to get my own free little master class today.”

If she got any smilier, Colin suspected it wasn’t going to be able to stay contained to a webcam. When she found her words again, she stuttered for a second and then said, “Thank you, John! Yeah, I’ve had a little bit of experience as a facilitator. I’ll just go over the rules for those that don’t know much about it yet. In the meantime, if you want, you’re welcome to come off webcam and talk to us face-to-face, I promise we’re a very receptive group. No pressure though.”

“Don’t mind if I do. Sorry to interrupt, you go right ahead.”

And when John M. came on screen, what most people probably saw first was a friendly smile, or his manicured brown hair, or his clean-shaven boyish face. But what Colin saw first was the briefest flash of bright blue go across his eyes.

Another one.

While moderator Andrea prattled on about asking people to pick up some object with meaning around them, Colin opened up the private messenger feature in Zoom. He started to type out a territorial message to John M. asking when he signed up for this, but before he could, a private message _from_ John popped up on the right side of the screen.

_You’re good._

Colin muted his mic before muttering a little “Yeah, right,” to himself. They had entirely different strategies. Sure, some energy vampires tricked themselves into thinking they made a killing off these positivity-based drains, but that was no way to live in the long run. It was filling, but unsustainable, instant gratification, like a keto diet for energy vamps. He got another message from John:

_Seriously. Starting right in on the pitfalls of Zoom controls. Everyone who ever took a single meeting or webinar on this platform suddenly thinks they’re an expert and will come running to help you. Like taking candy from a baby._

Colin snickered. This amateur probably did take candies from babies. Again, that kind of drain was just that—candy. No nutritional value. He typed out a message back and sent it to John: _Thanks. Not sure I understand the compliment method, but if it works for you, enjoy._

John M. visibly resisted smiling on his screen before he sent another message: _This isn’t just the compliment method, my friend. I’m just here to lay down a bit of foundation, if you will. I’ll be coming back to this reading group every week at six PM on the dot. By the time it wraps, I’ll have a Thanksgiving feast all to myself in May._

Colin nodded to himself. Long term work was more admirable. He didn’t always have the patience for it, especially not online, where the payoff wasn’t as strong as in-person feedings. He responded, pointing out, _Bear in mind half these people will get bored and drop out by then._

John said back, _Oh no. I’ll only be needing one person._

At that exact moment, Andrea said, “John, how about you?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m so sorry, my audio is a little unsteady these days. Could you ask me one more time?”

“We’re asking everyone what their talking piece item will be. It can be any symbolic item that gives you power when you hold it up while it’s your turn to talk.”

“Thank you for wording that so clearly, Andrea. I’ll be using the script itself.” He held up a shiny softcover copy of _Oleanna._ “Although, to be clear, it doesn’t give me power to do anything except listen to women.”

There were soft sounds of people snapping their fingers or muttering “Yes” from every direction of the Zoom call. Colin wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t after seeing John didn’t even feed from the others' reactions. Long term work, indeed. He felt a bit of curiosity coming to the surface. What exactly was this guy’s strategy?

As the circle moved on to someone else, John sent Colin another private message. _If you’re down and free this weekend, I wouldn’t mind meeting up with a like-minded guy to discuss my methods a bit more. There’s still some loose ends. You seem like you’re good at sniffing those out._

Colin couldn’t resist a little bit of a brag. _I didn’t study up on the history of every sailor knot for nothing._

John dropped an email address in his next message. Colin copied it into a Word document right away. Before he could do anything else, Andrea said, “Colin, I think you’re the last one who hasn’t spoken yet. Do you have a symbolic object to use as your talking piece for our circle?”

“What was that? I think you’re muted!” and then he left the Zoom call. That sign-off would probably send the whole group into a minute or so of confusion, a quick snack to tide his new friend over. There was no sense in them both in the Zoom room feeding at once—everyone would just get exhausted and sign off early—so Colin got up and went upstairs. A maskless walk around the block, maybe a bus ride, would be sufficient enough to finish filling him up that night.

He passed by the familiar, comforting sounds of their mansion: low creaks of the old wood, Nadja reprimanding Laszlo for something or other in the living room, Nandor busying himself upstairs tending to some antique weapon Colin didn’t care about. When he got to the front door, Guillermo was standing in front of it, arm extended toward the door, but frozen in place, his brows furrowed over his glasses in thought.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?” Colin asked. Guillermo jumped when he heard him. He had been doing this a lot since the whole theatre fiasco—walking around looking confused, halfway through an undiscernible task at any given time.

“Oh. Jeez. Hi Colin.” He shook his head out about. “A little of both, I guess.” Then he seemed to remember who he was talking to. “I’ll just—be going to another room now. Have a good night.”

Off he went. So easily confused those days, it would be simple to get a bit of energy out of Guillermo, but something struck Colin as opportunistic about it. Like a hyena feeding off of something half-dead. It would get the job done, but where was the fun?

“Wait, hey Colin, don’t you want a mask?” Guillermo called from the doorway, where he held a little box of fresh disposable blue masks.

Well, okay, one for the road. He turned back to Guillermo. “No, why?”

“Because—everyone is—never mind.”

Colin left the house, letting the heavy door clang shut behind him. God, that was nothing. Not even worth the effort. Just a taste in his mouth. If Guillermo was too tired to even engage, what was the point?

Colin looked up toward a window where he saw a faint yellow light. Nandor was probably in there. Nandor also hadn’t been social lately, preferring to stay in his room. Colin never figured Nandor to be the kind of guy to sit around and journal about his thoughts and feelings, so he had no clue what he was doing up there for those extra hours. It crossed his mind that maybe if Guillermo was clued in to the fact that Nandor had become less chatty, and if Nandor realized Guillermo was disconnecting too, they might be able to help each other. Or maybe they did realize, but just needed the push of someone mentioning it out loud.

Nandor’s pale bearded face appeared in the window. Colin waved up toward it.

The shadow of Nandor’s hand reached toward the light and turned it out.

Colin just locked the door behind himself and started down the street toward the bus stop. Maybe he would mention all of this, but only if someone asked. So, never. Fine.


	2. You know, friends and all

A common misconception with energy vampires is that they don’t have any emotions. This would be an easy misconception to have, given how rarely they show it. They may not feel things as powerfully as mortals do, but they do have those feelings from time to time, and they’re exceptionally good at covering them. Unless they were emotional vampires, like Evie was.

Hmm. Evie. Colin wondered briefly where she was. But only briefly, and then his mind went back to this imaginary blog post. One day, he figured, when vampires were a little more out in the open, he could make a whole blog explaining the excruciating details of being an energy vampire, hopefully in a way that would promise a climactic ending to each post, and then depriving the reader of it. Could he one day get to the point of being powerful enough to drain energy through someone just reading or even viewing his posts? The comments section was a possibility, but from people just reading posts sounded harder… he’d have to try it one day.

Before he could finish that thought fully, he had walked up to the bench John M. had asked to meet him at, in a little park normally flooded at that early evening time with people eating food from a bunch of food trucks. John was wearing a mask, seated in that leaned-back cross-legged way of men at total satisfaction with their lives. Most noticeably, he was wearing a full gray suit over a crisp blue button down and navy tie. The tie matched his face mask perfectly.

“Is that part of the whole strategy?” Colin knew it was not the most pleasant way to introduce himself, but John smiled so wide when he saw Colin that it crept up out of his mask and right into his eyes. “Wearing a suit like that?”

“A suit like what exactly?” he asked, but he seemed to have a pretty good idea, standing up to meet Colin and damn near swiveling so he could get a good full look at how well-tailored it was.

“The kind that most people don’t wear to parks in Staten Island.”

“I wouldn’t call it part of the strategy, per se, but it certainly doesn’t hurt. I’d tell people to wear whatever they feel most comfortable in. That could be jeans and a band shirt, or it could be a sundress, or a sweater vest and khakis.” On that last suggestion, he gave Colin’s outfit a once-over: not a mean one, just a meaningful one. Now speaking of strategies, I’d love to see yours in action before we get to talking shop. Should we hit up one of these food trucks? Do you have a particular one in mind?”

“Probably this taco one. I’ve never seen it before. Must be new.”

“Is that--?”

“Just watch,” then Colin walked up to the window of the truck, titled Metro Taqueria-to-Go. “Hey there! Do you guys have anything vegetarian?”

“Yes, definitely!” the woman working was also wearing a mask. She had long black hair, failing to cover floral tattoos peeking out of the sleeves of her t-shirt. “We have tofu and seitan. They can be put in any of our entrée options. The beans and rice is totally vegan as well.”

“Interesting. Now, about cross-contamination… I mean, is it really vegan if it’s all made using the same equipment? We’re not talking about particles here, we’re talking about probably like whole bits and pieces of skin.”

“I hear you, but I assure you all of our vegetarian food is made using different equipment. We have two different burners back here and everything.”

“And containers too?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“And it’s the same back at the commissary?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Do you have any paperwork verifying that?”

“… Uh…”

“Never mind, I don’t seriously expect that. I can see you guys are brand new. Wow, picked a hell of a time to start a business, huh? All the local office workers are gone and no one is leaving the house. You sure are brave!”

She rolled her eyes, which seemed to have grown dark bags underneath in just the last fifteen seconds. “Sir… is there anything I can… you know… get started for you?”

“No, I’m full. I might go check out one of the ones where people wear hair nets later. Thanks for your time, though.” He started to walk away.

John wasn’t following him though. He heard John behind him, still at the window, ask the young lady running the truck, “What would you recommend?”

“It’s all good, really… but our specialty is the carnitas.”

“Well then, I’ll take those carnitas tacos. Would you do the combo?”

“Of course I would!”

“What the hell then – full combo please. I have a feeling I can trust you.”

She went to work cooking, calling out questions about condiments to John over the sizzle of the stove. Everything she said, he managed to turn into a gentle question about how she was getting by or what her favorite ingredients were. When it was done and handed to him, he marveled over how good it looked, saying things like “Wow!” and “Lookit that!” every few words. He handed her a fifty dollar bill and she gasped when he told her to keep the change. She called out something to him about how people like him kept the restaurant industry afloat, but was also unable to really make a well-worded sentence, since she had started getting choked up.

When they sat back down at the bench, to Colin’s amazement, John started eating his tacos. He noticed Colin staring. “What? Do you want to try? It’s fantastic, I wasn’t lying.”

“You’re not full after that whole exchange?”

“Well, I got a nice sampling of her energy, which I’ll need moving forward—but no, not really. I mean, this doesn’t really do much either for me, this taco or whatever the shit, but if I throw out in front of her that’ll ruin all the good work I just did.”

 _What the fuck? What good work?_ “So you don’t work through compliments?”

“I do, in a way.”

“In a way meaning…?”

“Compliments are part of it, but it’s just step one in a whole system I follow.”

“Go on,” though it was at this point that Colin had a feeling he was getting taken for a ride. Obviously this guy was talented and had a lengthy tried-and-true process. So what did he need Colin for? He was morbidly interested, and maybe in the core of his being, it was a little bit about the fact that other tolerable energy vampires were hard to come by. John was a try-hard, and gave him a weird feeling, but at least he seemed _interested_ in what Colin had to say. Not like the rest of his roommates.

“Well, compliments are a nice way to open up the conversation. Everyone likes to talk about themselves, that much we know is true. But not everyone knows how to start. It’s easy to get them to start if they feel like what they’re saying about themselves is accepted off the bat.”

So _that_ was John’s angle. A true conversationalist. Colin was glad he cracked the code. This was even more interesting – these energy vampires were rare. They engaged in long conversations, not necessarily bad ones, but you became so involved you didn’t realize you were being drained until the job interview or the cocktail party or the first date was completely over. Then you felt satisfied but undeniably exhausted. Social media and self-care crazes had nearly wiped these vampires out. Colin went, “Huh.”

John had taken a second while Colin thought to glance at his phone, but his friendly eyes popped right back up. “Huh what? Penny for your thoughts?”

“I get your strategy now.”

“Glad to hear it! What do you think?”

“I didn’t even know you guys still existed. I thought the world had become a little too modern for you to fit in.”

“Colin, I knew there was a reason we were fast friends. I need someone to talk to with half a goddamn brain in his head. I was thinking Staten Island was deserted.” His phone buzzed. “I hope it’s cool if I end our introductory meet-up here in a little while—I say introductory because I hope to see you again sometime soon and I’m being dead serious about that—because Andrea has been blowing up my phone. Seems she’s working through the latest Jeremy O. Harris script and I think a phone call might suit our conversation best at this point.”

Obviously Colin was meant to either know who Andrea was or ask, and he could recognize bait like this a mile away, but there was no reason _not_ to take bait from John. Right? So he asked, “Is Andrea a partner of some kind or… a victim?”

John just let out a soft little laugh and tapped out a message on his phone before saying, “Do you remember the moderator from that little theatre Zoom we did?”

“Not really,” he did, and he had no answer to the question about _why_ he should stop taking John’s bait, just the feeling that he should really stop. He glanced around, wondering if any of the other food trucks had menus he could pick apart – questionable claims to be gluten-free, maybe?

But still John continued, “We really clicked in that first group and we’ve been zooming privately to talk about some plays we’ve been dissecting. Great little exercise for that artistic part of the brain, you know? One conversation about Ben Brantley led to another, next thing you know, we’ve swapped phone numbers and now we text all the time. She’s my little theatre pen pal. So fun.”

He chose to ignore all of that disgusting little paragraph. “Yeah, it’s alright if we end now. I should head home anyway. I’d like to hang out with my roomies now that it’s almost dark.”

“Oh, that’s great you guys hang out. How do you all know each other? Prior relationship or—”

“It just sort of worked out,” as nearly all vampire roommate situations do. Which John should have known. Once you found a group of vamps you could halfway-tolerate who you could rely on not to stab you in the back somehow, you stuck with them. Everyone knew that.

“That’s so great. I'm happy for you. Maybe I could come over and hang out with them too sometime.”

“I don’t see why not.” He figured John would make a feast out of engaging Laszlo on one of his many hobbies, or Nandor on his history, or Nadja on her exes, or Guillermo on… whatever he did for fun that Colin openly had no clue about.

“Cool, because since we’re, you know, friends and all—” Those last few words seemed to meld into one. You-know-friends-and-all. Rhythmic. Colin’s brain replayed it on a low volume underscoring the rest of their conversation. “I wouldn’t want you to think I was blowing you off.”

He wondered why the fuck John was dragging this out. Conversational drains wouldn’t work on him. “John. It’s okay.”

“Wait, it’s okay now?”

“Yes?”

“I sense your question mark. Do you know the reason for mine?”

“No, which is why I included one… and why I’m including one now?”

“Ah, well, it’s just that the word _alright_ comes with an entirely different implication than _okay,_ doesn’t it?”

Yes. “Not necessarily.”

“Oh, Colin, no way. Come on. If you send me a text message, multiple bubbles long, the kind you have to strain your thumb to scroll through, pouring your heart out, and I just say ‘okay’, that’s much worse than if I said, ‘alright’, is it not?”

Colin sensed admitting this was a solid point played somehow into a larger game John had going. But which was worse—trying to figure that part out, and taking too much time, or at least giving some sort of answer? “Again, not necessarily.”

“Huh! You may be the only person I know who thinks so.”

“I guess I just like to mix it up now and then.”

“Oh yeah?” John cleared his throat after that and swallowed hard, perhaps the first indicator in the entire conversation of something being out of his control. The alright/okay thing must have gotten to him a bit, but before Colin could ponder it, John cleared his throat once more and said, “I’ll email you again tonight or tomorrow and we’ll do this again sometime next week? New location, maybe? You ever go into Manhattan?” But before he could get an answer, he put his phone up to his face. “Hello? Andrea? Can you hear me? … No, I can hear you just fine. I can always hear you, it seems. A voice of sense in the madding crowd.”

He gave Colin an enthusiastic wave goodbye as he started out toward the street. On his way out of the park, he paused by the Metro taco truck, said something quickly into his phone, then held his phone away for a second, covering the speaker. He spoke to the taco truck lady, just out of Colin’s earshot, both of them laughing and gesturing with glee. After a minute or so she handed him a paper bag, filled to the brim with steaming food. He made gestures like he couldn’t possibly, and she made gestures like she demanded he take it. He asked another question, and she pointed out a schedule on the side of the truck next to her window. They both gestured to the ground with their pointer fingers a few times, cackling over some just-invented inside joke, clearly, about how they’ll be right there again soon. Colin could no longer take the sentimental display and turned to leave out the other end of the park. It would add a couple blocks to his walk back home, but honestly that was fine.

So John was getting free stuff too, from these long conversations. Maybe _that_ was the angle after all. Gain people’s trust, drain their energy… and then steal from them? No, there was something off about that.

This was all very confusing, but he realized there was also something nice about having something to think about on his walk home. Someone to hang out with like him. He was looking forward to meeting up again. He didn’t remember the last time he looked forward to anything except his meal. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out that his meals were something only he enjoyed.

Just as he walked into the yard, a small-ish pine tree from their side yard fell, just in Colin’s peripheral vision. He heard Laszlo’s voice say, “Take that, you needly shrubby bastard!”

Colin actually wasn’t that hungry anymore. Just curious about Laszlo was up to. He rounded the corner of the house into the side yard.

Laszlo had a rather large, rusted axe in one hand. To many, it might be an intimidating image, a vampire with an axe, but Colin knew Laszlo probably had about as much skill using an axe as he did a surgeon’s scalpel. “Chopping wood, buddy?”

He looked up, noticing Colin for the first time, not bothering to pretend he didn’t look already annoyed. “If you must know, yes, actually. Nadja mentioned she missed the smell of wood smoke, and I figured I’d do something about it. No one’s bothered to take proper care of this thing, so… off with its head.”

“Aren’t you the one into gardening?”

“I’m into gardening _my garden,_ which is over on the other side. I can’t be expected to take care of every drop of land we have, can I?”

“No, you certainly don’t have the time.”

Laszlo was pretty adept at avoiding Colin’s drains at that point, but after that bit of sarcasm, he did take a second to shake out his head before raising the axe up and dropping it on the fallen tree with a dramatic grunt. It crossed Colin’s mind that the tree wouldn’t be ready to burn for quite some time—too wet and fresh. Surely Laszlo would attempt to start a fire and fail, and Nadja would berate him. Colin acknowledged this, then started to turn to go back inside.

“You don’t ever wear one of those masks, do you?”

Laszlo? Initiating conversation? He must be bored. Or avoiding something. “No. Why would I?”

“Safety or something? They certainly blather on about it enough on TV.”

“We don’t pass diseases between us, so why would it matter?”

“Good question. Never mind then. As you were.”

“Well, here’s another good question…” Colin ignored the obvious _oh fuck_ eye roll on Laszlo’s face. “You know how I take my energy from people, right?”

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

“Do you think that same thing could be done by someone _stealing_ from you?”

Laszlo put his axe on the ground and leaned on it. Colin was surprised the guy was still engaging with him, but then again, everyone likes to feel like an expert. He had things to learn from John after all, it seemed. “That begs the question of _why_ and _what_ they’re stealing from me.”

“Why would that matter?”

“Well, I tell you this, people aren’t able to just walk up and _take_ things from me. I would never allow it.”

“You allowed Simon the Devious to take your hat in his club that one time.”

“That’s—it wasn’t—now why would you bring that up? Are you trying to foreshadow something?”

“I guess my question would be, when would stealing not take your energy?”

“Let me ask you this, Colin Robinson. Let’s say you go to one of those—oh what are they called. The stores will all the items for human ailments such as bleach cleaner and menstrual pads and valentine cards all in the same general area…”

“Walgreens. Or maybe a Duane Reade. They’re similar, but a lot of people don’t know that the difference is more than just the name, it has to do with a merger—”

“Whatever, and you see a woman, looking very worried and hungry – probably dirty, for the sake of a clear image – and she’s pocketing a jar of baby food. When you see her, you do what?”

“I do what?”

“Yes. You do what about it?”

“You mean, what do I do?”

“… What?”

“If you switched around the phrasing, it would be a little more clear is all.”

“SO if you see her pocketing it, you fucking MAN, you, what do you do?”

“In this hypothetical, are there employees visible or are they around but occupied? And are there cameras? And when she pockets it, does she—”

“I regret everything about engaging with this conversation, but if I don’t finish it, I’ll scarcely be able to shut my coffin lid with bouncing right back out, and the ol’ lady won’t be having that. So let me just finish this thought by not answering any of your questions and telling you, chap, that the answer is you do _nothing._ ” He paused, but one got the feeling it wasn’t to await a specific reaction from Colin – he didn’t even look over, just brought his axe up and down with another reasonable _thump._ “When you see someone shoplifting, you do fuck all. It’s none of our business.”

“You mean to tell me you’re willing to give benefit of the doubt that every time someone shoplifts, it’s because they need to feed their family?”

“I mean to tell you I don’t give one bloody shit why they did it, but I made the decision to not give this shit for the sake of all those who did indeed steal for that reason. When I see that happening, it doesn’t suck out my energy, because I don’t let it.”

Laszlo was capable of nuance sometimes. This was not one of those times. But at the same time, Colin wasn’t sure what he was getting at. Something about it made him uncomfortable, so when Laszlo raised his axe and started chopping wood, Colin turned around and went inside.

He used a side door leading into the kitchen. He didn’t hear anyone off the bat, but as he walked through the kitchen, he heard the rustle of someone (the noisy rustle of someone who wore many layers and a cape to boot) peeking around the corner at him. “Psst. Colin Robinson.”

Two different roommates openly engaging him in conversation? Maybe things were turning around. “What can I do ya for, Nandor?”

Nandor threw a glance over his shoulder, and then one around the room. Then he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “When the humans have their applications on their phones... you know about this, yes?”

“Do I know about apps? Sure. Apps sure are handy these days. Not sure what I did before mobile deposits. Wells Fargo really has it down—”

“No, please, none of that, just listen, those apps… what is one called Tinder for?”

Nandor joining the dating world? That was a funny thought. He was so behind in the times it would never work. It would be even funnier if it happened by accident. “Tinder is just an app where you go meet people who want to give up their lives to let a vampire feed on them.”

“Really? A whole app for that?!”

“Yeah, there’s a few like it. But when you use it, be careful not to mention that you’re going to bite them. Just talk like you’re going on a date. People like to talk in code so the government doesn’t get suspicious.”

“Very wise… this is a clever invention, this vampire biting app. Why do we ever go through the trouble of hunting down people?! Why didn’t anyone tell us?”

“It’s a well-kept secret. Kept under wraps for supply and demand issues.”

“Well, not anymore! I am going to use this Tinder and get so many people’s necks and… wait a minute…” He looked around the room one more time. “If that’s what it’s for, why would Guillermo have that on his phone?”

So it was Guillermo who was hitting the town. And Nandor wanted to know why. When he looked up at Colin with those big dark eyes, so very alive for a dead person, Colin had a sudden acute understanding of why Nandor was so worried about Guillermo using apps and going out at night. They were barely talking, Guillermo was not doing his chores on time, and yet he was still living there. They were really struggling.

And it was going to be hard enough without someone else interfering. “You know what, Nandor… actually… now that I think about it, the biting-date app is called something else. It’s not Tinder.”

“No? That’s disappointing. What is it called then?”

“I don’t remember. I’ll look it up for you later.”

“And what is Tinder for?”

“It’s for dating.”

Nandor looked back at him, his mouth open and fangs on display, not quite with surprise, but something like it. He nodded after a moment. “I had a feeling.”

“Sorry about that.”

“What? No. No sorry. We are not sorry about that. Why would we be? I do not care. I am leaving now. You tell me when you remember what that vampire-bitey-tap-tap on the phone is called. Yes?”

Before Colin could respond, in a flourish, Nandor was gone. A bat flew through the room and out into the hall.

The night was young for the vampires, but Colin already felt like bed. _One more thing._ He opened the kitchen window. “Hey, Laszlo?”

Laszlo was on his way toward the door, arms full of poorly chopped, uneven splintering wood. “What?”

“That wood won’t make a good fire tonight. Let it dry out for a couple days.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Laszlo squinted at him, regarding him coolly, with a quiet, “Hmph.” He waited a moment for Colin to say more. When he didn’t, Laszlo followed up with, “I know my wood, chap. I’ve got this under control. But. Thank you. I suppose.”

He didn’t move to come back inside, just stood there in the yard with his arms full. For all Colin knew, when he turned and went downstairs, Laszlo was still outside.


End file.
